


a sad sad story of angels and glory (please don't go)

by lizzy_stardust_18



Category: Spring Awakening - Sheik/Sater
Genre: Everybody Lives/Nobody Dies, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, title is from "hello darkness" by new year's day
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-31
Updated: 2019-01-31
Packaged: 2019-10-19 20:54:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17608799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lizzy_stardust_18/pseuds/lizzy_stardust_18
Summary: Just when all seems lost, Melchior intervenes.





	a sad sad story of angels and glory (please don't go)

**Author's Note:**

> obviously huge cw for suicide and melchior just basically being melchior 
> 
> also HUGE shoutout to alix (euphrasiefauchelevent on ao3, @coniello on tumblr) bc she is the reason this fic exists since it was born from our conversations 
> 
> hope u enjoy!!

**_moritz_ **

_ “Come on!” Melchior said, his toothy smile breaking across his pink cheeks. Before Moritz could protest, Melchior was tugging him along through the snow, and, as he always did, Moritz followed with little hesitation and absolutely no reluctance. Running through a snowstorm seemed like a small feat if he was doing it with his best friend. Still, he couldn’t move his legs nearly quickly enough or gracefully enough to keep up, and he tripped over his own feet, landing solidly face-down in the snow. The impact was soft enough that he wasn’t hurt, but the cold sting of the snow on his cheeks and in his nose was enough to overwhelm him and bring tears to his eyes. He heard Melchior approaching and he blinked rapidly. He would not let Melchior see him cry.   _

 

_ “Mor? Mor I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to make you fall!” Melchior said. Moritz didn’t need to look up to know that Melchior would be wringing his hands just looking at him, the movement disrupted by his large woolly mittens making it difficult for his hands to do anything but pack snowballs and clutch Moritz’s own hands. Moritz managed to push himself up off the ground onto all fours, feeling the wet spots already forming on his knees. There was snow on his face, he could feel it. His cheeks would be so red. “Moritz are you alright?” Melchior asked. Moritz rolled onto his back in response and gave Melchior a winning smile.  _

 

_ “I’m right as rain, Melchi!” The look of relief on Melchior’s face was worth falling in the snow a hundred times over, he decided.  _

 

_ “You want me to help you up?” Melchior asked, extending his hand.  _

 

_ “I’m fine, besides, it’s kinda cozy down here. I think I’m gonna take a nap,” Moritz said, extending his arms indolently and feigning a yawn.  _

 

_ Melchior snorted. “You’re so silly, Moritz,” he said. “Hey, you know what you need to do while you’re down there.”  _

 

_ “Make an angel?” Moritz asked.  _

 

_ “Make an angel,” Melchior replied, grinning brightly. Moritz giggled and dragged his arms and legs back and forth several times in the snow. His back would get wet soon, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.  _

 

_ “Are you gonna make one too?”  _

 

_ “I don’t know, my mom told me not to get my trousers wet.”  _

 

_ “Well I can’t just make an angel by  _ myself _ ,” Moritz pouted.  _

 

_ “You’re right, you can’t,” Melchior said, plopping down beside Moritz with a dramatic  _ flump.  _ He turned his head and grinned at Moritz and repeated his motion, creating an angel of his own in the snow before sitting up and brushing the snow out of his hair with a dissatisfied motion. “I need to start wearing hats more,” Melchior lamented. Moritz sat up as well and straightened his hat on his head.  _

 

_ “Do you want to borrow mine?”  _

 

_ “Nah, I’m okay.” A wicked grin spread across Melchior’s face. “Besides, with how much  you fall, you need it to keep your head intact.”  _

 

_ Moritz stuck his tongue out. “My head is perfectly intact, thank you very much, Smellchi.” Melchior reached over and Moritz expected him to smack his hand, but instead he scooped up a handful of snow from directly beside Moritz’s hand and hurled it directly at Moritz’s chest. “Hey!” Moritz cried out in protest. He sat up and grabbed a handful of snow from the same spot, leaving claw-like marks in the shape of his fingers in the snow. He packed it into a ball and hit Melchior directly in the face. Melchior sat stunned for a half-second, his features frozen in an expression of pure shock before they contorted into one of mock fury, sending Moritz into stitches.  _

 

_ “Oh, you’re in for it, Mor!” Melchior lunged at him and Moritz threw up his hands to defend himself, peals of helpless laughter escaping his mouth as he did so. He caught Melchior by the arms and rolled over, sending Melchior onto his back with Moritz on top of him. He looked down, expecting Melchior to be furious, but his face was broken out in a wide, wonderful grin, and Moritz thought there couldn’t be a better sight than that of his best friend’s toothy, gleeful smile.  _

 

_ “Sorry, Melchi,” he said, giggling breathlessly and half-hugging Melchior.  _

 

_ “Yeah yeah, get off me, ya big lump,” Melchior said, even though he then put his arms around Moritz and hugged him back with the enthusiasm that Moritz had been too hesitant to show. They stayed like that for a second before Moritz sat up and straightened up, brushing the snow off of his dampened knees. “Hey, help me up,” Melchior said, extending up one of his mittened hands for Moritz to grab. He took it and, with more effort than he was willing to admit, he pulled Melchior up onto his feet. Melchior took a moment to dust himself off, and Moritz surveyed the aftermath of their wrestling in the snow. Their snow angels were completely blurred, and while Melchior’s angel was still relatively intact, the space between their angels where their “wings” had been was completely trampled, and Moritz’s angel didn’t have a clear distinction between its head and its body.  _

 

_ “Aww, we ruined our angels,” Moritz said, pouting slightly.  _

 

_ “We can make more elsewhere.”  _

 

_ “But now their wings are fused together, they can’t fly back to heaven.”  _

 

_ “But they’ve got each other. They’ll be okay.” Melchior offered Moritz his hand again, which he took without question. “Come on,” Melchior said with a smile, “let’s go! I won’t let you fall this time!”  _

 

_ ~~~~ _

 

The stars appearing in the distance should have evoked feelings of hope, that there could be light in the darkness, but they just reminded Moritz of how far away hope was at this point. He reached into his pocket and felt the cold steel of the gun. He paused for a moment before pulling it out. He didn’t want to die. Not truly. But what else could he do? There was no hope anymore, nowhere to run. There was no time to cry or hesitate. There was only him and this monumental thing he was terrified to do. There was just him. There was nothing except for the growing darkness and those damned stars, mocking him from far off in the sky. 

 

He took a shuddering breath. Everything would be okay soon. The angels would understand. Perhaps they wouldn’t send him away if they knew he had no option other than this. Maybe they would hold him close and tell him he did well, given the circumstances. He could tell them grand stories of adventure. He could tell them about his times with his childhood friends, about playing pirates with Ilse, about a time when the snow outside was the only cold thing that ever touched him. He could tell them about the infinite joy he could feel in a single afternoon by the river, how the sound of the water rushing over stones and Melchior’s unabashed laughs had been more wonderful to him than any music. 

 

He felt a stinging at the corner of his eyes and his vision blurred, which he supposed was for the best. It would be best not to remember how beautiful the world was before he left it, especially when it wouldn’t let him stay in it. He raised the gun and gently placed it in his mouth. This was for the best. A tear rolled down his cheek and he didn’t bother to wipe it away. It would all freeze over when the night came, anyway. He closed his eyes and let the darkness behind his eyelids overtake him. Everything was so still, so peaceful. Just like he would be in a moment to come. 

 

The stillness was shattered by a single devastating cry. “ _ Moritz _ !” 

 

His blood froze. The voice was achingly familiar.  _ No, no, no, please go away, please don’t be here, _ he silently begged his best friend.  _ Just let me disappear.  _

 

He opened his eyes to see Melchior standing a short distance away, his features frozen in an expression of pure horror. If he didn’t know what Melchior was reacting to, he would have instantly thrown himself into the path of whatever it was that had Melchior so petrified. But he couldn’t protect him from this. Not from his own undoing. He lowered the gun slightly to speak and a small trail of saliva came away on the barrel.  _ Disgusting _ . “Go away, Melchi,” he said, his voice quavering only slightly. “Go away!” 

 

“Moritz,” Melchior said, the betrayal evident in his tone. He stepped forward, and even though Moritz wanted to raise the gun again, wanted to just squeeze the trigger and get it over with, he felt himself losing the battle. He couldn’t destroy himself, not where  _ Melchior _ could see it. Especially not with that look in his eyes. 

 

“Please don’t,” Moritz begged, but Melchior stepped closer, ignoring his plea. It was only a second before Melchior was standing in Moritz’s space, closing his hand over his wrist. 

 

“Moritz, give me the gun,” Melchior said. His voice was so soft that Moritz felt like his heart was being tugged out of his chest. 

 

“Melchi, no, no I can’t,” he said, but his fingers acted of their own accord, relinquishing the gun into Melchior’s grip instead of his own. He let out a half sob as Melchior delicately handled the gun as if it were something too delicate to drop. Melchior looked down at it and then slowly drew his eyes up to meet Moritz’s. His jaw clenched and he turned and chucked the gun into the distance. Moritz’s stomach turned over as he watched it vanish into the darkness and land somewhere he couldn’t see it. Moritz let out a small cry and moved as if to run after it, but Melchior blocked his path. 

 

“Why did you do that?” Moritz wailed. “I have to--” 

 

“Have to what?” Melchior’s tone was harsh, but his eyes were wide and scared. He reached out and gripped Moritz’s arms. Moritz bowed his head and felt his shoulders heave in a sob.  

“I have to fix it,” he mumbled, “I have to make it all stop. Please, please, go away Melchi, I don’t want you to see this.” 

 

“Moritz,” Melchior said, shaking his head and squeezing Moritz’s arms. “Is this because of your exam results? You know the administration are dogs, it doesn’t  _ mean _ anything about you, it can be okay, I promise.” A surge of anger overcame Moritz. 

 

“Yes, it can,” he says, his tone oddly serene given the circumstances. “If you will just let me retrieve that gun.” Melchior’s face crumpled. 

 

“Moritz, no,” he said, and in an instant he was pulling Moritz close to him, wrapping his arms around him so tight that if he didn’t know better, Moritz would think he was trying to smother him.  _ Goddamnit, Melchi, why can’t you just fucking let go of me? Why can’t you see this is for the best? _ A cry of frustration bubbled up out of Moritz’s mouth, but the sound came out as a broken whimper that made Melchior clutch him even tighter. Moritz wanted to scream, wanted to wrench his way free of Melchior’s arms, but his body betrayed him, as it always did when it came to Melchior, and he found himself melting into his embrace. His knees buckled under him, and he and Melchior went down to the ground. He fisted his hands in Melchior’s coat and buried his face in Melchior’s shoulder, his mouth parted just enough that he was practically biting the fabric. He felt a hand make its way gently to his hair and his stomach twisted with guilt. “Moritz, please, you can’t leave us.” 

 

The shaky whisper turned all of Moritz’s joints to water, and he went slack against Melchior. Hot tears swam in his eyes and rolled down his cheeks, and his body was wracked with weak sobs. “I’m sorry, Melchi,” he murmured, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I just--I need it all to  _ stop _ .” Melchior squeezed him in response, and Moritz choked on another sob. “Please don’t let go of me,” he whispered, adjusting his grip on Melchior so that he could hold onto him as tightly as he could. 

 

“Never,” was the response whispered in his ear. 

  
  


**_melchior_ **

Melchior was unable to process it all properly. He knew, he objectively  _ knew _ that things were bad for Moritz and that he felt terrible about his prospects in life. He knew and yet he had only thought to go looking for him in order to escape...Wendla. Standing there in all her innocence and goodness, pleading with her eyes for him to forgive her, even when he had been the one to beat her and then run off like the coward he was. 

 

His stomach had churned ever since that moment at the mere thought of going near her, and he had begged her and begged her to leave him alone, to let him grasp at himself alone in that hayloft in all of his shame and misery, but she had persisted, had knelt beside him and asked him to run with her in the meadow. And he had wanted to. He had wanted to run beside her and bury his anguish in the sweet release of the rain. But he had wanted, even more strongly, to pull her to the ground with him and hike up her dress, to cover every inch of her skin with his mouth and to push himself inside her until she cried out his name with parted, glistening lips. But her hesitation hung in the air and in the bow of her shoulders beneath her dress before he could even give credence to these lustful thoughts, her “wait”’s and “please don’t”’s damning him before he even sinned. So instead of allowing her to sit beside him, he had furiously buttoned up his pants, his fingers burning with yet-unearned shame, and raced apologetically into the night, leaving her alone in the hayloft with a million unanswered questions.

 

The gentle rain kissing his cheeks had calmed him down a little, but the fire raging within him hadn’t let up, and he found himself wandering into the dark of the woods to reclaim at least some of his sanity. He managed to get about halfway into the woods before he saw another human figure. He squinted to see who it was, and then his eyebrows shot up when he realized. 

 

“Ilse Neumann?” he asked incredulously. 

 

“In the flesh,” she responded, grinning at him. 

 

“How on earth have you been?” he asked. “Where are you living now?” 

 

“Well you know, here and there. The artist’s colony has been quite good to me lately.” Upon seeing Melchior’s raised eyebrow, she scoffed. “Don’t give me that look. It’s not as rough as you might think. Well,” she cocked her head, considering, before shaking it and plastering her smile back on. “It’s not as bad as it could be. How about you?” 

 

Brushing the thoughts of his current emotional state aside, he replied. “I’m alright. Where are you headed?”  

 

“Home,” she said dully. 

 

“In the dark? Do you need someone to walk with you?” 

 

“Such a gentleman,” she said, flashing him a wry smile. “No, I’ll be good. Hey, I ran into Moritz on the way, he seemed kinda distraught, do you know if he’s alright?” 

 

Melchior’s heart threatened to leap out of his chest. “Moritz? He’s dealing with some heavy stuff right now, but I thought he was…” he trailed off. “I have to go, be safe, Ilse!” he called. If Moritz was distraught and alone out here, that couldn’t bode well for his state of being at all. Melchior had to find him. He took off running through the trees, back in the direction from which Ilse had headed. He ran until he reached a clearing in which he saw a hunched figure standing with his shoulders shaking in silent sobs. A gleam of metal flashed in the starlight, and Melchior realized with horror what exactly Moritz was planning. Moritz lifted the gun to his mouth and Melchior panicked. 

 

“ _ Moritz _ !” he cried out. 

 

Moritz froze and lowered the gun ever-so-slightly from his mouth. Moritz spoke, and his voice sounded horrifyingly shaky. “Go away, Melchi. Go away!” 

 

_ No way in hell.  _ “Moritz,” he said, stepping closer to Moritz, eyeing the gun but keeping himself headed steadily towards him. 

 

“Please don’t,” Moritz said, but Melchior pushed forward, his only focus on getting that godforsaken gun out of Moritz’s hands. He gently wrapped his hand around Moritz’s wrist. 

 

“Moritz, give me the gun,” he said in a quiet but firm tone. 

 

“Melchi, no, no I can’t,” Moritz protested, but he relented and gave Melchior the gun anyway. Melchior clenched his jaw. This gun was loaded. One little squeeze of the trigger and Moritz would have been ripped from the world, his brains splattered all over this forest floor. His stomach churned at the very thought, and he threw the gun with all his might away from them. 

 

“Why did you do that?” Moritz said, his face contorting into a hopeless expression. “I have to--” 

 

“Have to what?” Melchior didn’t want the answer, but he asked anyway. He reached out to grasp Moritz’s arms. Feeling Moritz and knowing he was solid was enough to make Melchior want to cry, but he kept his composure. Getting a good look at Moritz, it struck him just how gray and sunken he looked. There were dark bags under his eyes and his hair was a mess, and he looked cold even though he was all bundled up in his coat and scarf. 

 

“I have to fix it, I have to make it all stop. Please, please, go away Melchi, I don’t want you to see this.” Moritz hung his head, and Melchior was overcome with the urge to cup his face with his hands and force Moritz to look at him. 

 

“Moritz,” he said, emphasizing the word like his life depended on it, even though it wasn’t  _ his _ life on the line (although life without Moritz was not one worth living, if Melchior was being honest with himself). “Is this because of your exam results? You know the administration are dogs, it doesn’t  _ mean _ anything about you, it can be okay, I promise.” 

 

“Yes, it can,” Moritz said with an eerie false serenity, “If you will just let me retrieve that gun.” 

 

“Moritz, no,” Melchior said, his heart dropping into his stomach. He reached out and pulled Moritz into a tight hug, desperate to have him as close as possible. Moritz made a horrible whimpering noise against his shoulder and Melchior squeezed him tightly.  _ Oh Moritz,  _ he thought,  _ oh, my dearest friend. Why didn’t I see this coming? How could I have been so blind? How did I not know you were hurting so badly?  _ He felt Moritz’s arms wrap around him as Moritz leaned into the embrace, and Melchior had to fight off thoughts about Moritz’s hands, how they looked when he wrote or tapped them against his desk, how he clapped them together in joy or grabbed at Melchior’s hands, how they would have pulled the trigger of a gun and ended Moritz’s life. His lovely, gentle hands would have enacted such terrible violence, and Melchior wouldn’t have known if he hadn’t been running away from his own cowardice. A rush of panicked thoughts rushed through Melchior’s brain, and he gripped Moritz with all his might. 

 

_ Don’t go please, Moritz, please don’t go I love you I love you I love you please don’t leave me,  _ he thought. Moritz breathed shakily into his shoulder before choking on another hopeless sob and twisting his hands in Melchior’s shirt. Melchior’s stomach lurched and he exhaled shakily and tightened his grip on Moritz, entwining his fingers desperately in Moritz’s hair. “Moritz, please, you can’t leave us,” he whispered, his chest tightening with the awful realization of the gravity of it all. This wonderful, warm, shaky boy in his arms could have died, and he wouldn’t have even  _ known _ if he hadn’t come running when he did. He loved Moritz and he could have lost him. 

 

Oh God, he  _ loved _ him. 

 

Melchior’s reverie was broken by the sound of Moritz apologizing over and over, and Melchior’s heart broke. He squeezed him as if maybe he could hug him tightly enough that whatever was broken inside of him could snap back into place and he’d smile again. Moritz begged him not to let go of him, and Melchior forced an answer out of himself that he hoped could reassure Moritz. 

 

“Never,” he whispered. It was the truth. 


End file.
